Sunday, 30 May 2010

Postcards home

Lazing away sunny days, my skin has turned a definite different colour. Surrounded by lovely chilled people. Dreads and guitars, fires and drums, beaches and cider, dirty hands and feet. Green trees and wild pigs. Sleeping in a hayhouse, handmade everything. Herding horses from one valley to the next. Planting beans in straight lines and finding them sprouting when we come back from the beach. Outside, every single day.
Nothing in particular on my mind.

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